


New Game

by jaegermighty



Series: ravioli, ravioli, won't you be my husbandioli [1]
Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wal-Mart, Woke Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/pseuds/jaegermighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My privacy settings have <i>very little </i>to do with this, <i>Olivia,</i>" says Ravi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felicityremarkablesmoak (lookatallthemoresigive)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookatallthemoresigive/gifts).



iii.

“We should get married!” says Liv.

“ _Yeah_ , we should!” Ravi replies.

Wait. Back up.

  
  
  
  


i.

Start menu, level one: Liv eats the brain of a fifteen year old.

“I feel like I could run a marathon and I sort of want to cry and also like I wanna make out with somebody,” Liv says. Ravi nods, adding them to the list on his clipboard. _Marathons. Crying. Make outs._ “Are you gonna finish those pretzels?”

“I was going to,” Ravi says, looking on in resignation as Liv shoves a handful of them into her mouth. “But go ahead, please.”

“They don’t taste like anything,” Liv says, spitting crumbs with each word onto Ravi’s desk, “but I don’t care. I just want to eat everything.” Ravi glances up, waiting for the dots to connect. “Uh. Not you. I would never eat you, Rav,” she says kindly, and pops a spare bit of pretzel that’s fallen into her lap back into her mouth.

“Thank you,” Ravi says graciously, “I appreciate that.”

“I don’t remember feeling like this when I was fifteen,” Liv says. “I mean, I cried a lot. So there was that. But I don’t remember having this much energy, and like-–I’m weirdly _conscious_ of my hair. And my teeth.”

_Teeth and hair_ , Ravi writes. “Adolescence is different for everyone–-you know, when I was fourteen I was obsessed with the Spice Girls. My parents thought I fancied one of them but to tell you the truth, I just really liked their music.”

“Oh my gosh, I loved the Spice Girls, too!”

“You know, when we first met, that was my first impression of you, I thought–-she looks like a Spice Girl. You have the look.”

“Really?” Liv’s eyes go a little watery. “Which one?”

If Ravi squints, he can almost hear the ominous boss music. “Why, Posh, of course.”

“Oh.” Liv’s trembly little face twists into a smile. Ding! Right answer. “Thank you. That is so nice of you to say, honestly.”

Ravi smiles as kindly as he can, and writes _mood swings_ down on his clipboard.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea though,” Liv says, restlessly shaking Ravi’s pretzel bag, tapping it against her leg. “What if _you_ go help solve the murder this time, and I’ll stay here and watch Friends reruns and do the paperwork? I mean, it’s definitely your turn by now.”

“You do realize that murder solving is not even the tiniest bit relevant to our actual job,” Ravi says. “Also I don’t have visions, so there’s that obstacle as well.”

Liv sighs glumly. “I’m gonna do something embarrassing in front of Clive. I can feel it.”

“You do quite a lot of embarrassing things in front of Clive, he’ll hardly be surprised,” Ravi says, and ducks the pretzel that comes flying at his face in retaliation. “Come now-–it’s a simple case! Won’t take you long, I’m sure. The girl was in a car accident, all you have to do is get a vision of the driver and voila-–open and shut.”

“You look so goofy when you do that,” Liv says, imitating his ‘voila!’ hand gesture, which is frankly a little rude. “‘Voila!’”

“Is that supposed to be me?” Ravi asks, highly offended. “Was that you doing me?”

“Oi, just winding you up, guv’nuh,” Liv says, and dissolves into giggles.

“Get out of my office right now,” says Ravi, disgusted.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been holding that one in since this morning,” Liv replies, looking absolutely not even sorry even a little bit.

Ravi rolls his eyes at her, sinking down into his chair to add an addendum to his list: _I lied btw you’re totally a BABY SPICE AND YOU KNOW IT_. “Good luck.”

“I’m taking your pretzels,” Liv tells him.

  
  
  
  


v.

“Baby Spice?!” Liv exclaims from Ravi’s office, apropos of nothing. Ravi pauses in the middle of explaining what hemochromatosis is to Detective Todaro from Major Crimes and sighs heavily. “ _Baby Spice_?!”

“You know I'm right,” Ravi tells her. Liv glares at him through the window before pulling the blinds shut sharply, and Ravi tries to remember what the hell he was just talking about.

Todaro clears his throat delicately. “You know, my wife and I fought constantly our first year. It’s pretty normal, you know-–nothin’ to worry about. Sorta like growin’ pains.”

Ravi stares at him helplessly. How did his life get to this point, he wonders. Was it something preventable? Did he not pray enough as a child? “Er,” he says, “thanks.”

“You guys’ll pull through,” Todaro says, and pats Ravi’s arm. “We’re all rootin’ for ya.”

“Wonderful,” Ravi says.

(Wait. Back up again.)

  
  
  
  


ii.

The case is bad.

“Never ever ever say ‘it’s open and shut’ to me ever again,” says Liv, head dipping low enough that the ends of her hair threaten to dip into her drink. “You jinxed it.”

“Yes, in hindsight that was a rookie mistake,” Ravi says, and moves the glass carefully out of the danger zone. “Oh, Liv, you can’t beat yourself up like this on every case. You’ll run yourself into the ground.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Liv says, and grabs her drink straight out of his grip. Ravi is reminded rather vividly of his sister at age sixteen, scowling and telling them to just leave her alone, because that’s how she feels all the time _anyway_. “She’s in me, Ravi. _Literally_. I can’t just-–not be sad, or angry-–fifty bucks! That’s it. That’s why she’s dead. She owed someone fifty bucks.”

“People have killed each other for less,” Ravi says gently.

“It’s so stupid,” Liv says weakly, staring intently at the lip of her bottle like she could find the answer there, if she just looked hard enough. “She wanted to be a teacher.”

Ravi’s heart does a horrible little twisting thing, at the despair in her voice. He imagines that it’s probably making that screaming noise that happens when your character falls off the track in Mario Kart. “Come here.”

“She was just a kid,” Liv says, and leans sideways into his arms, a halfway hug stretched over two bar stools.

Ravi won’t pretend to know what it’s like, can’t pretend that it doesn’t tear her up, to be so intimate with the people that cross their table, in such a strange way. She was right, after all–he can’t understand. Ravi’s never thought of them as anything but cadavers, tasks to complete, but Liv tends to remind him of the humanity of what they do, and the tragedy. Ironic, that.

“Can you even get drunk?” he asks, after she's stopped shuddering.

“I dunno,” Liv mumbles, muffled against his shoulder. “Was gonna try and find out.”

“Testing a hypothesis without me? I’m hurt.”

“Theresa wanted to try it,” Liv says. “She never got a chance.”

“Well that does explain the wine cooler,” Ravi says, signaling for the bartender.

“It doesn’t taste like anything.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Ravi says. “I’ll get us a bottle of something better.”

Liv tips back up out of his embrace, tilting her chin up to grace him with a wan smile. “How about some Tabasco sauce, too?”

“Maybe we’ll try Fireball,” Ravi decides.

 

ii.

In hindsight, whiskey was a mistake on several levels.

  
  
  
  


iv.

“Okay, don’t panic,” Liv says.

“Who’s panicking?” Ravi asks, and falls off the bed. “Oh, God.”

“Are you okay?” Liv asks anxiously, and scampers over to kneel next to him. Ravi opens one eye and immediately regrets it. “Nausea? Do you want a trash can?”

“No,” Ravi says.

“You should drink some water–-I’ll get you some water–”

“Relax, Dr. Moore,” Ravi mumbles, keeping his eyes closed until the worst of the pain passes. “I’m fine, I just. Wow-–”

“You’re hungover and you fell,” Liv says, matter of factly, and Ravi chances another look, seeing her worried face hovering over his. “Did you hit anything? Let me see your head-–”

Ravi bats her hands away, scooting back up against the bed. “I’m fine, and I’m not panicking. In fact I think I’m rather outraged, actually, are you telling me that you can get drunk like everyone else, but you won’t get a hangover the next morning? How is that even remotely fair, for you to get the good part but not–-wait, are we in a hotel?”

“Yes,” Liv says warily.

“Why did we get a hotel?”

“Um,” Liv says.

Ravi takes a second look at her, as pale as ever, but her eyes are redder than usual, and there are deep, dark bags beneath them. Her hair is flat on one side and a tangled mess on the other, she’s only got one sock on, and is she-–is that a-– “Are you wearing a _wedding ring_?”

“Um,” Liv says again.

  
  
  
  


v.

“You know, I always wondered about you two,” says Clive. “You seemed to get pretty close pretty quick. Not that I’m judging, you know-–it’s not easy to meet people in the city. And workplace romances get a bad rap, it’s not always as risky as they say-–”

“Dear God can we please discuss the dead person,” Liv says.

“I’m happy for you!” Clive replies, grinning ear to ear. “That’s all I’m sayin’. Congrats, and all that.” Ravi smiles beatifically, accepting the good detective’s handshake, while Liv fidgets next to the desiccated corpse. “Y’all got a registry or something? I wanna get you a gift.”

“Is a gift registry even appropriate for an elopement?” Ravi asks. “Seems rather...greedy, don’t you think?”

“My cousin did it. He’s a piece of work though, married this girl he met on vacation, got divorced like two months later, so...maybe not. Tell you what-–you just tell me what you need, and I’ll find you something nice. Like a bread maker or something–-hey Liv, you like homemade bread?”

Liv stares at them both like she is, very seriously, thinking about eating them. Ravi grins at her. “Sure.”

“Great,” Clive says, scribbling something in his notebook. “You know, I’m impressed too, that you managed to get it past the brass. They’re not usually too crazy about the whole fraternization thing–-at least not in my neck of the woods.”

“They’ve got sort of a soft spot for us,” Liv says. "Hey-–didja notice? This guy has no arms?”

“Huh,” says Clive. Liv raises her eyebrows hopefully. “Who appoints you guys, anyway?”

“The City Councilor’s office,” Ravi says, as Liv groans out loud. “They’re all quite nice-–most of them think it’s romantic, actually. Oh Liv, did I tell you that Anita sent us a blender?”

“No,” Liv says flatly.

“I figured we’d keep it in the break room, for, you know,” Ravi lowers his voice, “your _smoothies_.”

“Protein?” Clive asks.

“Of a sort,” Ravi replies, grinning over at Liv, who is shaking her head at him, begging him wordlessly not to do it. “Liv has an extremely high protein diet, in fact. So high that it’s hard for me to stomach sometimes, quite honestly.”

“Well, you have a delicate system,” Liv says, through gritted teeth.

“If you’re talking about that powder shit then I don’t blame him,” Clive says. “My mom does all that, the organic superfood thing. I mean, you gotta do what works for you, but-–you also gotta keep a few steaks in the fridge for this guy too, huh?” He punches Ravi's shoulder, and laughs. Ravi laughs too, but mostly because of the look on Liv's face rather than Clive's joke.

"We're actually not living together," Liv says. "Still working that one out."

"Oh yeah, don't you live with her ex?" Clive asks. "By the way, just wondering–-why the hell would you do that?"

"An ill-advised decision in retrospect," Ravi says. Liv, apparently haven given up, sinks down on a stool and pulls out her cell phone. "It's been a tad awkward at home."

Clive just shakes his head, as he often does, when he's around them. Ravi is rather resigned to the fact that the entirety of the police department very likely thinks that he and Liv are either very strange, very dysfunctional, or both, at this point. He's been told that they're called 'Mr. and Mrs. Morgue,' around the station. Ravi would have gone with something vampire-themed himself, on account of Liv's skin and all, but cops aren't necessarily the wittiest sort of people, present company excluded. "Good luck with that, man."

"You know, I'm sitting right here," Liv says. "You're not gonna wish me luck, too?"

"I figured he needs it more," Clive says unapologetically.

Liv rolls her eyes, but conspicuously doesn't deny it.

  
  
  
  


iv.

"I don't remember any of this," Ravi says, scrolling through the pictures on Liv's phone in a kind of vague awe. "We were-–is this _Wal-Mart_?"

"That's where we got the ring," Liv tells him. "Also the marriage."

"We got married in a Wal-Mart," Ravi says, horrified.

"There was...a thing? It was like...a gimmick? There were tons of other couples there–like, we went there for beer, originally. But I guess we got sidetracked." Liv fidgets next to him, biting obsessively at her nails and tugging at her clothes. "It was for Valentine's Day."

"Dear God," Ravi says, staring at a photograph of Liv and a young woman with bright blue hair, hugging each other in the middle of a cereal aisle and holding up their matching rings. They're both making kissy faces at the camera.

"Theresa's brain...might have influenced my behavior." Liv crosses, then uncrosses her legs. "A bit."

"No really," Ravi says dryly, holding up the phone. The next photograph shows Liv sticking out her tongue and making the punk rock sign with both hands.

"Okay, a lot," Liv says. "That girl was nice by the way. Her name was Libby. She was too young to get married though so they turned her away when she and Rock–-that was her boyfriend–-got up to the clerk. I'm pretty sure I got her phone number-–we're gonna hang, later this week."

"Were you even drunk?" Ravi asks, aghast. "Or were you just high on ninth grade brain hormones?"

"I was!" Liv snaps, sounding offended. "Maybe not as drunk as you. I think–-my metabolism is weird now. I had to keep drinking like, a lot, to stay tipsy and I could never really get past a certain level of it, you know-–"

"So not only do you not get hangovers, but you avoid the worst parts of the actual drunkenness as well," Ravi says, groaning out loud. "This just keeps getting worse and worse."

Liv's mouth turns down into a frustrated pout. "I'd take a nasty hangover over being dead any day, thanks," she says, crossing her arms. "And thanks a lot, by the way. You're not exactly the guy I was planning on marrying either."

Ravi stares at her until she starts to fidget again and the pout melts into a disgruntled frown. "Mhmm."

"We can get it annulled," Liv says, with a sigh. "It's not like we don't have the grounds. We wouldn't even have to tell anyone! You know–-I think we're gonna laugh about this one day. It'll be one of those stories we tell at parties, you know, like 'remember the time Liv and I got drunk married at a Wal-Mart?'" Liv laughs, eyeing him a little nervously. "A fond memory, between buds!"

"Right, well," Ravi says, wincing at her phone's screen, where a text alert has just come through from someone labeled "P red dress emoji" in Liv's contacts. CALL ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, it says. He holds it up in front of her face. "I have a feeling that won't be possible, _bud_. At least the part where nobody will find out."

"Oh God," Liv says, snatching her phone back. "Oh, oh dear God. Oh no. Ohhhh no."

Ravi reaches for his own phone with a sort of fatalistic resignation to what he's about to find. He has twenty-two texts, and over fifty Facebook notifications. His sister has been calling him since eight o'clock this morning. "Oh, bloody fucking hell."

"I put it on Facebook?!" Liv cries, dismayed. She's clutching her own face, making agonized faces at her phone. "Rav, I put it on _Facebook_!"

Ravi's scrolling through his wall, looking at all the surprised and happy messages people have left for him. One of ex-girlfriends has even sent him a heartfelt "congratulations, I'm happy you're happy" message. Great. "And you tagged me in it, too."

"I can't believe you still don't have your privacy settings locked down," Liv cries, smacking his shoulder. "You see? People can tag you in anything and it just shows up on your wall! I told you it'd backfire on you one day!"

"Oh, do not start with that again," Ravi says, pointing at her, "my privacy settings have _very little_ to do with this, _Olivia_. And-–what, you remember _Libby_ from last night but you don't remember posting a picture of our _marriage certificate_ on the internet?"

"Oh God," Liv says faintly, clutching her chest, "my brother–-my _mother_ saw this. Peyton must think...oh my God. Oh my God, _Major_."

"My family saw this too, you know!" Ravi snaps, just as his sister starts to call, again. He hits the 'decline' button with the full force of his vengeance. "Granted, most of them do think I'm a bit strange but marrying a woman I've only known for six months completely out of the blue is bizarre even for me. Someone who works under me, no less." Ravi's stomach sinks, a whole new level of bad coming into focus. "Oh, crap."

Liv groans loudly and throws herself backwards on the bed, burying her face in a pillow.

"I changed my mind, let's just go back to sleep for forever," Ravi says. He eyes the spot next to her on the bed-is it weird if he lies down next to her? They're married, apparently, but they're not–-whatever. Whatever. His head hurts. "How long do we have this room?"

"I don't know, probably like noon," Liv says, muffled into her pillow. Ravi pokes at her shin with his foot until she rolls over enough for him to maneuver his giant legs up onto the bed. "I paid for it."

"You did?"

"Well, you paid for my ring." There is an ominous silence, and Ravi turns his head to see her peeking out at him from beneath the pillow. "They had a surprisingly diverse collection, for...you know. Wal-Mart."

"I don't want to know."

"It wasn't the _most_ expensive one-–"

"I don't want to know! I don't want to know yet. Just-–let me have a nap, alright."

"Okay," Liv says quietly. "It's really pretty, though. The diamond kind of looks like a little star. Do you want to see?"

Ravi closes his eyes and sighs. "Show me later."

  
  
  
  


v.

"Oh, this is very funny," Liv says, glaring venomously at the _Corpse Bride_ poster that Ravi has kindly pinned up on the wall of the morgue. "So clever, really. I'm very impressed."

"It's not a joke," Ravi tells her. "I happen to enjoy Tim Burton's work, thank you very much. And I thought this place could use a little culture, is all."

"When are you going to stop punishing me?" Liv asks, dangerously close to a whine. She's rocking the "undead crime fighting chic" look today–running shoes, non-baggy clothing, blood spatter on one arm. Ravi would ask, but he doesn't really care. She's clearly not any deader than usual, so. "Look, I'm _sorry_ we accidentally got married, and I'm _sorry_ I told everyone we know. I'm also sorry that I told Libby I was a zombie and that she could interview me for her podcast, although in my defense–-that's sort of my secret to give out, buddy, not yours."

"I'm not punishing you," Ravi says, and props his feet up onto the little stool he keeps near his desk, specifically for this purpose. Might as well get comfortable. "I am giving you a reasonable amount of grief for a reckless decision that has landed me in the strangest dilemma I have ever been in in my life, and that includes the time I walked in on you cannibalizing one of our patients on your lunch break."

"I wish you wouldn't call them that," Liv says.

"Cannibalism?"

" _Patients_ ," she replies, and plops down in a chair, scrubbing resentfully at a smear of blood on her wrist.

"Duly noted," Ravi replies. "And I'm not mad at you for the Libby thing, don't be ridiculous. I'm quite excited to hear her take you to task, actually, although I would remind you to make sure she doesn't use your name."

"She's gonna use a synthesizer on my voice," Liv says absently, then slouches dramatically in the chair, looking over at him balefully. "Well can you be done with the grief? Because I'm full of grief, Rav. I want us to be friends again."

"We are friends," Ravi says, taken aback. "We've always been friends." Liv gives him a little lopsided smile, at that, which is something, at least. "I'll stop with the jokes, though. If it really bothers you."

Liv sighs. "I really am sorry, you know. I know this is mostly my fault."

Ravi feels a little bad about the zombie couple wedding cake topper that's waiting for her on top of the apple pie a la brains in the break room fridge, now. "Well–-the Facebook thing was, yes. But I think we were both equally involved in the actual marriage part."

"I think it's my fault that my mother is threatening to sue you, though," Liv says.

Ravi winces, thinking of the disastrous dinner at Mrs. Moore's house the previous weekend, which had started at "the worst" and progressed quickly to "may very possibly need legal counsel." At least her brother had liked him. "I don't believe you had much of a hand in that either, Liv. I might remind you that my sister has been obliquely calling you a gold digger on Twitter for several weeks now."

"Peyton thinks you're paying me," Liv offers. "For, you know. A green card."

"For heaven's sake, I don't even need one of those," Ravi says, rolling his eyes. "My father is from _Ohio_."

"Oh, is it nice? Let's go there," Liv says. "Or we could go to London! We could live with your mother and eat crumpets all day."

"Okay, if I can't make zombie bride jokes, you can't make English jokes," Ravi says.

"I wonder if I'd start speaking with an accent like yours if I ate British brains all the time."

"Well, I certainly hope not," Ravi says, still burned by her horrible attempts at it–-particularly last night's, inspired by a late night screening of the new James Bond. "Look, Liv–-your family will come around. We'll stick with the original plan–-pretend for a reasonable amount of time, fake a breakup, and voila! Home free. You can tell them I broke your heart, if you want."

Liv grins a little, imitating his voila gesture. "Voila."

"Shut up."

"I wouldn't tell them you broke my heart, though," Liv says. "They wouldn't believe me anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ravi asks, frowning at her.

"Out of the two of us, who's the one most likely to dump the other in a cruel and sudden fashion?" Liv asks. "I mean, come on."

Ravi refrains from mentioning his opinions on that subject. Liv doesn't often take it well when he suggests that she is anything but the most horrible bitch ever when it comes to her relationships, particularly hers and Major's. "Well-–we shouldn't have to make up anything ridiculous, anyway. It's understandable that we'd start to regret an impulsive decision such as this after living with its realities, for awhile."

"Yeah. Speaking of," Liv says, "I might have found a place."

"Oh?"

"Only one bedroom, but...we'd probably have to share anyway, so. But it's got a great kitchen and it's sublevel, so our view is like, dirt. Won't even need the blackout curtains."

"You always need the blackout curtains," Ravi tells her.

Liv rolls her eyes at him. "Rent is decent. And it's in Wallingford. It has a six-month lease, but we can put it in my name if it still freaks you out."

Ravi will have to think about that. "Perhaps."

"Peyton's making me pay seventy percent of the fee to break the one on our apartment," Liv says glumly. "She totally lawyered the crap out of me."

"She's still angry?"

"Livid." Liv rubs her forehead. "Not that I blame her."

Ravi is...going to refrain from voicing his opinion on that subject, as well. "She'll forgive you. Once things settle down a bit."

"Hopefully."

She just looks so _tired_ , is the thing. She's been that way for weeks, since this whole thing started in the first place, and honestly half the reason that Ravi has been needling her so much lately is because making her angry is the only way he's found to make her stop looking so...well, dead all the time.

"Sounds promising," he says. "We can swing by it tonight. I've been banned from the house, anyway."

"Major has another date?" Liv asks. If she's weird or jealous about it, she doesn't show it in her voice.

"Third one this week." At least the manic OkCupid spree is a shade more bearable than the way he'd trudged around like somebody had just shot his mother for the first week and a half. The noble "I just want you both to be happy" speech had been hard enough; Ravi was on the verge of punching _himself_ in the face on the poor chap's behalf. "Look, Liv, we'll work it out, alright? It'll be fine. Secrets do this to people, they make things...difficult, but–-your secret isn't a normal one. And this whole marriage mess…" Ravi shrugs, sitting up in his chair. "Maybe it's for the best in the long run. It'll certainly make things a bit easier."

"It will be nice to keep some food at home," Liv says. "And not be constantly paranoid that someone will try to eat it, too."

"Just stop beating yourself up," Ravi tells her bluntly. "The things we can't tell our families are-–I mean, it _is_ wrong to lie. I don't mean to imply that we have no responsibility in the matter. But life forces our hand, sometimes. And the ones we love–-if they truly love us back, will forgive us for that. Eventually."

"I just keep thinking we should've told them the truth," Liv says quietly. "About us, I mean. Obviously not the zombie thing."

"Would it have made it any less strange?" Ravi asks. "That Facebook post of yours was-–really, Liv, did you have to go into such _detail_ –-"

"Okay," Liv says loudly, "I thought we agreed to let that go already."

"At least this way we can come out of this whole thing looking relatively reasonable," Ravi says, grinning at her. She smiles back, hesitantly. "Besides, my entire existence has utterly _scandalized_ your mother. You can't tell me that's not a little bit enjoyable."

"A little," Liv allows, smiling slyly at her knees.

"You'll definitely have to Skype with my grandfather at some point. He's going to have a _heart attack;_ I can't bloody wait."

"Do you want me to do my best gold digger?" Liv asks. "I could, I dunno, wear a tight dress and keep bringing up your trust fund."

"He'll be horrified enough as it is, but I appreciate the sentiment," Ravi tells her genuinely.

Liv laughs, utterly unoffended, and rises to her feet. "Thanks, Ravi."

"Well, I do appreciate it. The man's a wretched old sod, he deserves every bit of punishment we can come up with–"

"No, I mean, just thanks," Liv says, leaning over the desk and pressing a cool, dry kiss to Ravi's cheekbone. "For...being here. And not making me feel like I'm ruining your life, which I sort of am."

"I can tell you," Ravi says slowly, looking at the sad downturn of her mouth, those bags beneath her eyes that still haven't faded away, "that ruining my life is the very last thing you could ever do, Liv. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Don't exaggerate to make me feel better."

"I'm not," Ravi says quietly, touching her hand where it's laid flat against his desk, so that she knows he's being serious. "You think you were the only one who was lonely, before? You weren't."

Liv swallows and tilts her head down towards the desk. Their faces are close enough that he can smell her hair, the soft, powdery scent of it. She's got a smudge of blood on her jaw, too, he notices. "Okay."

He can tell she doesn't believe it, because deep down, Ravi can tell, Liv thinks that she's a monster now. Her jokes and quips are a lot more telling than she realizes, but-–he'll work on that. They've got time.

"Admit it," Ravi says, trying to bring things back up, "I'm not the worst option for an impromptu Wal-Mart marriage."

"No," Liv says, and clears her throat, tilting her head back up so he can she her face again. She's got that playful grin he hasn't seen in weeks, and Ravi feeling something tense inside of him uncoil, just a bit. "Not the _worst_."

"And better me than someone you have some complex romantic entanglement with. This is all quite complicated already."

Liv's mouth twists sort of weirdly. "Right."

Ravi smiles at her fondly. "You've got blood on your face."

"Shit," Liv mutters, pulling back from their little pow-wow and rubbing at her face. She looks up, at the clock on the wall, and she springs into action, shoving her arms back into her jacket and grabbing her bag from the ground. "Shit! I'm late to meet Clive. Shit."

"Good luck on the case, _darling_ ," Ravi says.

Liv courteously takes the time to roll her eyes at him before she dashes out. "Don't wait up, _honey_."

  
  
  
  


iii.

Level–-two? Three? Mini boss fight? Whatever. Ravi won't remember this:

"Oh God," Liv says, smearing the words against his cheek, panting hard into his ear. "Why have we never done this? We should _always_ be doing this–-"

Ravi wants very much to pick her up and slam her against something, but the only solid surfaces around have rows and rows of cereal on them, so that's probably a bad idea. "Perhaps because you are so incredibly short? This is ridiculous; my neck is killing me."

"Hey," Liv says, pulling away to glare, "I'm average, you giant."

"Maybe we can find you a step ladder somewhere-–"

Liv makes a sound eerily reminiscent of one of her zombie snarls, when she's in full-on mode, and drags him down by his collar for another kiss. Ravi forgets rather quickly what he was talking about.

"I never thought," she murmurs, between kisses and breaths, "you and me, that it could happen, that we could, that you would want–"

Ravi wants quite a lot of things, including but not limited to: a cure, a new car, world peace, and a bedroom to take Liv to, preferably with a lock and no ex-fiances in the immediate vicinity. He can feel how drunk he is, and taste it on her tongue–he'll probably regret this, revealing too much. He doesn't much care at the moment.

"Let's do something stupid," he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and hitching her up, walking them back towards the mouth of the aisle in an awkward waddle, making her laugh. "We don't need beer, we need to seize the moment!"

Liv throws her head back, laughing, and Ravi can't imagine her ever being sad, looking at her right now. "We should get married!"

" _Yeah_ , we should!" Ravi replies.

"Oh my God, I totally love you," Liv says, and kisses him again. Ravi kisses her back and stumbles into a row of bagels, very narrowly avoiding knocking them off onto the floor. Their ensuing laughter is rather loud, which probably explains the stink-eye they get from the employee who quickly appears to investigate.

"This is absolutely mad," Ravi says. "Let's do it."

(Stage completed, save game: y/n? Ravi steps on the remote and accidentally chooses the wrong one.)

**Author's Note:**

> i know you can't get married at wal-mart. like, they probably don't do that, even on valentine's day. but she eats brains, so. you know. go with it.


End file.
